Consolation
by trufflemores
Summary: Some weeks are better than others, and this is no exception. In which Blaine has a Bad Day and Kurt is there to help him weather the storm. Klaine. COMPLETE.


**Disclaimer**: I do not own Glee or any of its characters; Ryan Murphy and Co. hold that honor. I'm simply writing this for fun, not profit.

"Blaine? Honey, I'm home," Kurt called, dropping an armful of groceries on the table before depositing his keys in a dish on the counter. "What did you want to do about dinner? Or did you already eat?" he asked, stacking the missing ingredients for cookies on the shelf. They were a must-have during the summer; Kurt craved sweets after a long day at the Diner, especially when he dealt with snippy customers for most of the day, and Blaine could always use a pick-me-up after his NYADA classes. Glancing around the apartment in the vain hope of spotting Blaine, he shut the cupboard and padded off towards the bedroom, swishing the curtain back with another, "Blaine?"

Curled up underneath the covers so only the top of his curly head was visible, Blaine was sound asleep, one hand still clinging to a sheaf of papers while the other tangled in the blankets at his side. Padding over to his side, Kurt freed the papers from his grasp, setting them aside before sitting on the bed itself. "Hey," he said, running a hand up Blaine's back, tracing the outline of it through the covers. "Wake up, sleepyhead."

Grunting softly in discontentment, Blaine attempted to curl even farther underneath the covers. Before he could completely submerge, Kurt brushed over his curls once, Blaine's body going momentarily rigid before relaxing. Rubbing at the back of his neck, Kurt could almost feel Blaine purring, scooting closer to him and at last emerging so he could hug Kurt's waist.

"Bad day?" Kurt asked, stroking a hand over the well-worn blue sweater of Kurt's that Blaine was wearing. He tended to drag it out whenever he felt lonely or just unhappy, craving Kurt's company even when it wasn't an option. It was snug around his broad shoulders and loose at the waist, the perfect pajama top with its soft, flowing texture.

"I'm never going to pass," Blaine groaned despairingly against his hip, not lifting his head from Kurt's thigh.

Kurt hummed as he continued to trace mindless patterns against Blaine's scalp, scratching lightly. "Would it help if I told you that everyone feels the same way their first semester at NYADA?"

Blaine sighed, hugging Kurt's waist even more tightly, burying his face against his belly for a moment before saying, "I don't want to fail, but I honestly don't know if I'm cut out for it."

"Honey." Kurt tugged at him until he was in a seated position, hugging him as Blaine buried his face against his shoulders, arms limp around Kurt's waist. "You are . . . incredibly talented," he insisted, kissing the side of his head once before rubbing a hand up and down his back. "And I know it doesn't feel that way, but it'll get better. After a point you learn to just . . . do it." Squeezing Blaine's waist lightly, he added, "It's the overthinking that gets to you. It's not a race; no one's ahead of or behind you. They're all on different tracks. You just need to follow the one that works for _you._"

Blaine was silent for a long moment, fiddling with the edge of Kurt's shirt absentmindedly as Kurt held him. At last, he said, "I just don't want to screw this up."

"You won't." Backing away from him so he could look Blaine in the (bleary, still faintly sleep-addled) eye, Kurt added, "No matter what happens, B, I'm always gonna love you. And that includes loving you whether you're at NYADA or Tisch or NYU or out of state or out of college. It's okay if it doesn't work out this way, but I don't want you to feel like it's impossible for you to succeed."

Nodding as he processed that statement, Blaine's eyelids fluttered shut for a moment as Kurt leaned forward for a brief kiss, adding, "I know it's been a long month for both of us, but we'll get through this. And if it's not right this way, then we'll make it work another way. Okay?"

"Okay," Blaine said quietly, tugging at the sleeve of his own sweater, Kurt's sweater. "I – thank you."

"Any time." Climbing off the bed and holding out a hand for Blaine to take, Kurt asked, "So – Chinese takeout work for you?"

"That sounds perfect," Blaine admitted, pulling himself to his feet and scrubbing a hand self-consciously through his hair. "I'll just – take care of this," he added, gesturing at his curly hair.

"No, leave it," Kurt said. When Blaine hesitated, clearly torn between wrestling it into submission and enduring whatever floppy state it might currently be in, Kurt offered, "I'll give you a head rub."

Needless to say, Blaine was more than happy to sprawl out on the couch, stuffed with as much Chinese food as he could tolerate while Kurt rubbed his scalp. Kurt knew that head rubs weren't a cure for everything, but they were still a pleasant distraction, a well-needed intermission from the chaos of their lives.

He couldn't fix Blaine's problems, but he could offer him this, companionship in the midst of the storm.


End file.
